


Your Smile, and the Sound of Your Voice, and the Way You See Through Me

by bigbidumbass



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Tom Blake is gay, will is in denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25041217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigbidumbass/pseuds/bigbidumbass
Summary: Will has a crush on Tom, but he hasn't quite realised it yet.
Relationships: Tom Blake/William Schofield
Comments: 7
Kudos: 61





	Your Smile, and the Sound of Your Voice, and the Way You See Through Me

Will’s parents were first and foremost, homophobic. It was one of the first things he remembered- his mother had seen a gay couple holding hands at a store, called the two of them disgusting, and had dragged a five-year-old Will outside to tell him how boys should only ever be with girls, and that being with a boy was a sin.

He’d gotten the picture. As he grew up, he’d started questioning it more. After a particular event where two men kissed at the movie theater and Will’s mother clutching his arm so hard that it hurt and dragging him out, giving him the usual spiel, Will had sat in the car, staring out the window, wondering if he was gay. But he liked girls. That was certain—in fact, at the moment, he had a crush on a girl named Marie in his class. So of course he wasn’t gay. And that was where his brain had stayed.

And why would he ever want to think past that? His father had made it very, very clear how he felt about “that sort,” as he called them. Will had taken after his parents as it was all he had ever been taught and he’d once argued with a classmate over it.

“God says it’s a sin,” Will had told him.

“And what if I don’t believe in God?” the classmate had replied. 

That had shut Will up. He’d not been able to think of a single response to it. At times, Will himself wasn’t even sure if he believed in God, either.

His father had passed when he’d turned seventeen, and his mother had somehow gotten worse after that. She was controlling in every aspect of his life: who he dated, who he was friends with, where he went. 

She’d always tell him that she was only doing everything she did to help him, that she knew what was best for him, and that she’d give him a life that’d make him happy. But the truth was, Will was never happy, not when she was around. Years passed and Will couldn’t find it in him to leave, but he would dream about it constantly. Dream that he’d get away and he’d be able to do whatever he wanted and whenever he wanted. Here, it was impossible. 

But then came a change—his mother decided to move, claiming she was tired of being in the same place all the time, and Will came with her. He didn’t have anything to stay for. The town they’d ended up in was small, small enough that everyone seemed to know everyone. Five separate people showed up on their doorstep that night, with dishes of food and words of welcome. 

Will had hoped that his mother wouldn’t be so bad here, but she was as awful as ever, constantly finding things wrong with him, constantly frustrated with everything he did no matter how he tried, and it was worsened by the process of the move.

A week into it, exhaustion from never be able to please her finally prompted him to do something he’d usually never have—to go out to a party. A nice girl named Eleanor had invited him and, thinking of how he knew his mother would hate it, Will had agreed. 

And here he was now, a bit uncomfortable but not necessarily regretting it. It was out of his comfort zone in every way, but at least he wasn’t home with his mother. Oh, his mother… she’d kill him once she found out that he’d left without telling her, and kill him again when she found out where he’d gone. 

For now, Will pushed thoughts of her out of his mind and tried to enjoy it here. It was loud in here, crowded, but people were friendly. Several people introduced themselves and had a quick chat with him before they were pulled away. It was certainly different than the town Will had grown up in, where if people didn’t know who you were they simply ignored you. 

As the night went on, Will found himself wandering around, not knowing what to do. But then he caught sight of a boy across from him, and the sight of him had Will flustered. Long curls, dangerously approaching mullet length but not quite—it suited him, somehow. He had a slit in his eyebrow, which Will assumed was self-given, and a hoop earring that dangled from one of his ears. He wore a leather jacket with a rainbow pin on hooked on it, and ripped black jeans. He was the kind of person his mother would faint if Will was within ten feet of.

Will wasn’t quite sure if it was the charismatic smile the boy seemed to permanently bear or the new desire for rebellion against his mother that prompted him to step closer. 

The boy noticed him immediately, eyes lingering a bit on Will’s clothes. Will knew he looked out of place and uptight, but he didn’t know how to remedy it so he simply gave him a smile and hoped he didn’t look completely foolish among everyone else.

“You’re new!” the boy exclaimed, a statement rather than a question.

“Er- yes,” Will replied, suddenly remembering how small the town was. 

The boy gave him a grin and held out his hand. “I’m Tom,” he said, “Tom Blake!”

“Will. Schofield,” Will replied, adding his last name as an afterthought, and Tom nodded with newfound recognition.

“Oh, right!” he said, “You moved here last week?”

“Yes,” Will responded, hoping Tom hadn’t met his mother yet.

“Your mum is Cybil?” Tom asked, but didn’t wait for a response. “I hate to say it, but I don’t think she likes me.” Will’s heart sank. Of course, he’d met her.

“Don’t worry,” Will assured him, “She doesn’t like anyone. Not even me.”

Tom gave him a strange look. “Really?” he said. “Well, I have the feeling that she must especially not like me. She saw me at the store, gave me a once over, and walked the other direction.”

“Typical,” Will muttered under his breath, desperately wishing he had different relations.

Tom was still looking at him with that strange expression, as if he were trying to decipher Will’s thoughts.

“You know, you don’t look much like her,” Tom said. “I’d never have guessed she was related.”

Will nodded. “Yes, I look more like my dad,” he explained. “I have her eyes, though.”

Tom looked into Will’s eyes for a moment and Will felt a strange sensation run though him, warm and anxious. He brushed it away.

“I see it,” Tom said, smiling, and a bit of his hair had fallen into his eyes. Will was tempted to reach over and brush it away, just for a second—he then came back to reality, and Tom had brushed it away himself.

“So,” he said, “How are you liking it here so far?”

“It’s… a change of pace,” Will replied, and Tom tilted his head back and laughed. There was that warm, fluttery feeling again, and it was stronger now. Will stubbornly shoved it away again and managed a weak grin back at Tom.

“It’s strange, everyone knowing who I am,” he said, “But that’s not bad.”

Tom nudged his shoulder and gave him a disbelieving look.

“Not bad _per se_ ,” Tom said, and Will couldn’t stop the full smile from blooming onto his face.

“No, really!” he insisted. “It’s nice to be somewhere new. I spent all my life in the same place, so having somewhere else to be is… refreshing.”

“If you say so,” Tom said, still not sounding convinced.

There was a beat of silence, and Will looked around at the now tipsy people around him. He envied their ability to let go—he was much too scared to ever put himself in a position that he didn’t have control over himself.

“I’m gonna go get some fresh air,” Tom announced. “Want to join me?”

Will was getting quickly getting overwhelmed by the noise level, and he sucked in a breath and nodded.

“Yes, that’d be good,” he replied, and Tom nodded out to the back porch. Will followed him out, and as soon as the door had closed behind them, lessening the music, he let out a harsh exhale and was finally able to relax a bit. 

Tom sat on the steps and Will sat next to him, trying to determine how much distance was too close or too far away. He ended up in the middle of the two, and Tom stared out at the yard in front of them. 

It was a beautiful view tonight—no clouds, the moonlight drenching everything in soft blue light. Fireflies floated among the soft grass. It was as if the fresh air and quiet were a salve for Will’s soul, to be out of his mother’s view.

“It’s nice out here,” Tom said, and Will nodded silently.

“It is,” he replied. It was chilly, but he didn’t mind it. He breathed the crisp air into his lungs and closed his eyes for a bit, content to be still and enjoy the moment. He knew all too well that the time to leave would come too soon, that he’d be back to his mother, but it was nice now. He was going to savor it as much as he could.

Tom absentmindedly fiddled with a ring on his pinky, still staring into the distance. 

“Tell me about yourself,” he said to Will suddenly, and Will didn’t know how to respond.

“What do you want to know?” he asked. Tom shrugged, finally meeting his eyes.

“Anything,” he said.

Will was silent for a moment, trying to figure out what to tell Tom without completely boring him.

“I- there’s nothing much to tell,” he said eventually, and Tom rolled his eyes.

“Right. How old are you?” he asked. 

“Twenty-three,” came Will’s response.

“Alright,” Tom replied, “And what kind of things do you like to do?”

Will thought about it. “I like to read,” he said, taking another pause. “And I used to do acting when I was younger.”

“Really?” Tom questioned. “What shows were you in?”

“Er- Hamlet,” Will confessed. “And the Crucible.”

“Oh, Hamlet?” Tom said in awe- “Who did you play?”

“I- Hamlet,” Will confessed. 

“Title role?” Tom grinned, clapping him on the back. “You must have been good!”

Will was not used to the casual touch, and he had to fight not to lean into it and give away how much he ached for it.

“I don’t know about that,” he stated softly, the response a bit delayed.

“Don’t say that,” Tom exclaimed, “I’m sure you were wonderful! And anyway, what matters is that you enjoyed it.”

“Yes, I suppose,” Will said. He’d failed in his original goal—he was feeling quite boring now, and he stared down at his feet below him.

“And?” Tom encouraged. “Favorite color? Favorite book? A place you’ve always wanted to go?”

Will was surprised Tom was still trying to pry conversation from him, after all that.

“I like blue,” Will said, staring out at the silvery sheens of it, “And, book… the Odyssey, I suppose. I’ve- I’ve always wanted to go to Florence.”

Tom was smiling at him. 

“I’ve been to Florence,” he said, “You’d like it. It’s beautiful.”

Will’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he knew who it was before he even took it out to look. 

“Christ, I’ve got to go,” he told Tom, seeing his mother’s furious texts. “But—hopefully, I’ll see you around?”

“Most likely,” Tom told him, and Will gave him a nod before heading out. Then he stood and stretched his legs, entering back into the party. It was somehow even more chaotic than it’d been when he’d been in it earlier, and it was almost impossible to worm his way through the crowd. He wasn’t much a fan of parties, but he had at least had met Tom, who seemed to be a kindred spirit of sorts. They were different, but it didn’t seem to matter. 

When he’d finally made it out and gotten into his car, Will wrestled with his hands to stop trembling at the thought of returning home, to the empty and cold house, to his mother who was obviously angry. As he drove, he kept his hands fixed on the steering wheel and his eyes on the road, and pushed back everything else, focusing on deep breaths and concentration, focusing on the fact that he’d be able to attend more events like this, and even though they were making him anxious, they were still so much better than staying home.

It started to rain when he got closer to home, the raindrops hitting the windshield. Will hated how hard they made it to see, but he loved the smell— he rolled down his window a bit and breathed it in. 

His mother was waiting on the porch for him. 

“Where have you been?” she asked, tapping her foot impatiently.

“At a party,” Will said. “Am I not allowed to go where I choose?”

She walked down to where he was and gripped his sweater, narrowing her eyes. 

“You smell like cigarettes and alcohol,” she said. “You know what I think of places like that.”

Will tried to pull out of her grasp, but she only gripped him tighter.

“You haven’t been using those things, have you?” she demanded.

“No, of course not,” he said.

“William,” she said sternly, “I _forbid_ you from going to things like that. They’re only going to end you up miserable, with a raging addiction and no friends.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m twenty-three, then, isn’t it?” Will snapped, “And free to make my own decisions?”

Her face contorted even further into anger, and her nails were digging into his arm now, painful and cruel.

“William Henry Schofield,” she hissed, “How dare you talk to me like that!”’

Will was finally able to pull away and he beelined for his room, ignoring her protests. God, he needed to get out of here, and soon—he wouldn’t be able to take much more of this. If he was able to move out, maybe stay with someone…

She was pounding on his door now, screeching at him. Will grabbed his headphones and turned the music up until he couldn’t hear her anymore, staring up at the ceiling and trying to forget where he was.

* * *

The next morning he woke up in crumpled clothes, his body sore and his phone dead. _Shit,_ he hadn’t meant to fall asleep. His mother was going to be… unbearable. No, she was already unbearable; Will couldn’t find the correct word, but he knew that he was dreading seeing her.

He opted for a shower, trying to wake himself up and relax a little. But relaxation attempts were futile, with the threat of his mother’s anger just a few rooms away. Will vowed to look for open houses near him, yearning to escape.

When he’d finally gotten out and dressed, he walked into the kitchen to face her. All she had to do was point to a chair for him to sit in, and he knew it would be awful. And awful it was—somehow even worse than he’d thought. It never seemed to end, and she somehow managed to drag all of his insecurities into it, somehow managed to bring him to the verge of tears even though he was terribly familiar with this sort of thing. When she finally was done, she sent him back to his room as if he were a child and told him he was grounded. 

Will had climbed out through his bedroom window and into his car within five minutes of those words, and he was driving away before he knew it. It was bound to make it worse when he came back, but he didn’t care. He had to get away.

He decided to go the store, even though he didn’t know what he’d buy. He didn’t have anywhere else to go. It’d have to do.

When he arrived, he immediately recognised a girl that had been at the party last night—he recognised her as Lauri—they’d chatted a few times before. He only knew that she was very nice and that she was one of Tom’s friends.

“Oh!” she exclaimed upon seeing him. “Will! How are you?”

“Yes, Will,” he confirmed. “Er- I’m alright, how are you?”

“Good, thanks!” Lauri replied enthusiastically. “And you, what are you here for?”

Will let out a defeated shrug. “I just needed to get out of the house,” he said, and Lauri nodded in understanding.

Will hesitated a moment. “Listen,” he started, “You wouldn’t happen to know of any places that are open to rent?”

“Rent?” she asked, and for a terrible moment, Will thought she might ask why, but she only shook the confusion from her expression and smiled.

“Well, yes, you’re in luck,” she exclaimed. “I have a room open in my house, and I know Leslie’s looking for a roommate as well. But, considering he’s, well, insane, I do think my offer is better— I might be biased, though.”

Will wanted to sigh in relief and pull her into a hug, but he settled for a smile.

“Really?” he asked and she nodded. 

“Yes!” she exclaimed, “You’d even get your own bathroom if you roomed with me—it _is_ you looking for a place, right?” she clarified.

“Yes,” Will answered. “It's for me.”

“Good,” she said. “When can you move in?”

Will was flustered. “I- well, I could… start tomorrow, I suppose but—wait, what’s the rent pricing?”

“Whatever you can pay,” Lauri said, and Will shook his head.

“No, really, what is it?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes. “I should have known you were stubborn,” she said. “Whatever you can pay, seriously. I just want the room filled, I’m paranoid and hate being alone in a place like that.”

Will decided the argument wasn’t worth the trouble and gave her a defeated look. 

“Alright, then,” he said, but she had suddenly remembered something-

“Oh, shit,” she cursed, “I have a cat. Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” Will said. He quite liked cats—he’d always wanted one, but his mother would have died before she allowed an animal into her home.

“Good,” Lauri sighed. “Anyway, can you really do tomorrow?”

Will thought about it for a moment. “Well, I can at least get started,” he said, and she beamed at him.

 _“Good,”_ she said again, relief spilling into her voice. “It’ll be nice to have someone there, especially when it’s dark.”

Will was just as relieved, but for different reasons—he’d no longer have to deal with his mother’s torments. 

“What’d I miss?” came a familiar voice a few metres away, and Will looked up to see Tom there, holding bags of groceries. 

“Will’s going to room with me,” Lauri said excitedly, and Tom grinned.

“Finally found someone, did you?” he asked her, then gave a wave to Will. “Hello again,” he said, and Will could swear he looked a bit smug, though he couldn’t for the life of him think why.

“Hello,” Will responded. 

“Anyway, Tom and I are having a movie night tonight, at six,” Lauri informed him. “Would you want to come over and look at the place? I could write down directions!”

“That sounds perfect,” Will said, and he really meant it. A part of himself was excited, that perhaps all of this was a new start—away from his mother, a new roommate, and perhaps a new friend group. Lauri and Tom were a breath of fresh air compared to all of Will’s old friends, who’d really mainly been acquaintances. 

Lauri grabbed a notepad from her bag, tearing off the top page that had a list of groceries, and writing down a series of words that directed Will to her house. When she was done, she ripped that page off too and handed it to Will, looking very pleased.

“Right, I’ll see you tonight?” she asked, and Will nodded a yes. 

“Perfect!” she smiled, and waved goodbye as she and Tom headed over to a car. Will was tempted to go home and pack, but he didn’t want to go home empty-handed, so he went inside and bought a few things that would be welcome in his new house. 

He was rocking back on forth on his toes by the time he checked out, he was so eager to start getting ready. When he got home, he carefully grabbed the things he’d bought and headed in. His mother’s car was gone, meaning she wasn’t there, and Will was more than thankful. He ran straight up to his room, pulling out his suitcases and carefully beginning to load his possessions into it. He didn’t have much—he’d be able to get a better perception of what he needed once he’d been to the house, but for now he got clothes and things ready. When he heard the slamming of the door downstairs, he froze, then resumed. He didn’t care if she saw him packing. It would serve her right, and she was bound to see it sooner or later, anyway. 

Sure enough, she was up to his room within a couple of minutes. Whatever she’d been planning to say melted away as she saw what Will was doing, and stared silently. 

“What are you doing?” she finally asked, and Will looked up at her.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he asked, “I’m packing.”

“Packing for what?” his mother asked. Her voice had taken on a tinge of hysteric, and Will felt his shoulders automatically tense, but he kept folding clothes into the case.

“I’m moving out,” he said, “Tomorrow.”

He had a million things more to say to her, to describe to her what a hell on earth she’d made life, but that would have to do for now. 

Cybil stammered a bit, at a loss for words. Will supposed that she’d never thought he would actually go, and he was quite happy to prove her wrong now.

“Fine,” she spat eventually. “I’m sure it will somehow make you happier than being with your mother.”

Whatever effect she’d meant for Will to have at these words simply didn’t kick in, and she stared at him numbly for a moment before leaving. 

Will was ecstatic, so close to freedom that he could taste it. In his old town, he never would have dared to move out—but there was something about being here that was breathing new life into him, and he was ready to chase it as far as it led.

Six came slower than he would have liked, but still, it came, and he was soon at Lauri’s door. The house was lovely, resembling a cottage, and Will gave it a fond look as he approached. Lauri threw open the door and grinned, pulling Will in for a hug.

“Come on in!” she said, stepping aside to let him in.

Will immediately loved it there—soft candles were lit, and the house was practically the definition of cozy. It felt more like home in ten seconds of looking around it than his entire life of living with mother. He was more than content to stay here forever, but he tried not to get too distracted from what Lauri was telling him.

“Here, I’ll show you your room,” she volunteered, leading him to a back bedroom. It was just as lovely as the other parts of the home, clean and open, a little empty—but that could soon be remedied. 

“You can do anything you like with it,” she told him, “Paint the walls, hang up posters, I don’t mind. This was my aunt’s house, she left it to me after she passed. Don’t worry, though, she didn’t die in here.”

Will could only let out a startled laugh, and he caught a glimpse of anxiety in Lauri’s face.

“Well?” she asked, “Is it alright? Do you like it?”

Will beamed at her. “It’s perfect,” he said, and she gave a relieved sigh.

“Good,” she said. “I’ve like I’m going insane, living here alone. Anyway, come see the rest of the house!”

She gave him a makeshift tour, showing him around the kitchen and living room, introducing him to her cat, and explaining things, like how to get the water warm in his shower.

When she was done, she sighed and tucked a bit of hair behind her ear. 

“Anyway, Tom should be here soon if you wanted to stay for the movie,” she said. “He’s running late—Joe had his car break down, and they’re working on getting it into a shop.”

“Joe?” Will asked, unfamiliar with the name.

“Oh, Tom’s brother,” she explained. “He’s been out of town for the last week, you wouldn’t have met him.”

Behind them, the sound of the door opening halted the conversation and they both turned to see Tom, smudged in grease and looking exhausted. 

“Jesus,” he said, “I thought that would never end.”

“You’re going to get mud all over!” Lauri exclaimed, “At least take off your shoes!”

Tom rolled his eye but it was contradicted by the smile on his face, and he carefully took off his shoes. 

“Christ, you’re filthy,” Lauri told him.

“Hey, that’s not my fault!” he replied, but Lauri was already wetting a paper towel and attempting to scrub the grease and flecks of mud off of him.

“There,” she said, once she’d gotten most of it off, “Better.”

Tom sighed and then turned his gaze to Will, flashing him a smile.

“Will,” he greeted him, “How do you like the place?”

“It’s fantastic,” Will replied, and Tom nodded.

“Yeah, Lauri will be glad to have you,” he said. “The poor thing is so lonely— if I wouldn’t have had to break my current rent contract, I would have moved in here with her.”

“I’m glad to be here,” Will told him. 

“Anyway, you’re staying for the movie, right?” Tom asked. “It’ll be fun!”

“Oh,” Will said, debating for a moment. “Yes, why not?”

Tom beamed at him and lay a hand on his shoulder. 

“Good!” he said. In the light, Will could see that he had a small dusting of freckles along his cheeks and nose, and that realization brought the return of the strange feeling he’d felt last night. Will wished it would go away, as its appearance brought a good deal of fear with it, for unexplainable reasons.

He once again shoved it to the back of his mind and acted like it hadn’t been there, giving Tom a faint grin, a poor return of the smile Tom was giving him. But Tom didn’t seem to mind, he simply let go of Will’s shoulder and ushered him over to the couch, sitting him down for the movie as Lauri set it up. 

Will had never heard of the movie they were watching, but he found that he enjoyed it. Tom and Lauri were both especially charismatic, and they openly laughed at what they found funny. Will’s mother had always taught him that it was rude to laugh at a movie, but he soon found his reservations slipping away as he joined them. It made it much more enjoyable, to be able to react to it freely.

He briefly wondered how long Lauri and Tom had been friends—they seemed very close. Near the end, Tom got up to get himself a glass of water, and when he came back he sat closer to Will, and there was that damned feeling again. Will was quite sick of it.

When it was over, he got up and stretched a bit, sad to leave but knowing he had to. 

“I should head out,” he told the two of them, “But, er- I’ll see you tomorrow morning?” he asked Lauri.

“Yes, thank God,” she sighed. “Thanks for joining us!”

“Yeah,” Tom chimed in, “It was nice to see you again!”

The warm feeling inside Will was now a proper jolt in his stomach, and he had a strange feeling that if he didn’t leave soon, it would be uncontrollable.

“Yes, thank you for having me,” he replied. 

They bid him goodbye and he left, puzzled about why on earth this strange feeling was plaguing him so. It had lodged itself in his chest, and the further away he was from Lauri’s house, the more it faded, thankfully.

When he got home, his mother didn’t say a thing to him, for which Will was grateful. He’d had more than enough conversations with her to last him a lifetime. 

He finished up packing, which wasn’t so difficult as he really would only have to bring his clothes and a few of his sentimental things—he didn’t own much more than that. And then he sighed and looked around his now nearly empty room.

He had only been here about a week, but he was very relieved to be out of it. There were already too many shit memories lurking about. He was happy to get rid of them the best he could. 

He properly got ready for bed that night, then packed his toothbrush and hairbrush away, and crawled into bed. It took him a while to fall asleep. He couldn’t help but feeling that this was too easy of an escape from his mother, that something would go terribly wrong and he’d end up trapped forever, hope crushed.

Eventually, he drifted off and woke to banging noises coming from the kitchen. It appeared that his mother was attempting to slam all of the cabinets that she could, and Will groaned at how unbelievably petty she was.

“Christ’s sake,” he muttered, sitting up. It was eight already, and Will decided to skip breakfast in an attempt to see his mother as little as possible. He gathered up what he could and headed out to his car.

She stilled as soon as she saw him, and Will knew all too well that she was itching to say something to him, but she merely glared at him and watched him, for his three trips of moving his belongings into his car. The car was crowded, but he’d really rather have that than have to come back here. Shoving it closed, he hesitated. He wanted to leave, but he also wanted at least a little closure, so he headed back inside to see his mother, stopping at the doorway.

She wouldn’t meet his eyes now, staring down at her coffee as if he weren’t there.

“I’m going,” he said, and there was only silence in response. He had so much to say, but he didn’t know to phrase any of it.

“I’m sorry,” he settled on, “But I can’t live like this forever.”

This time, he didn’t wait for her to respond. He headed back to his car and got in, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. She didn’t have anything she could do now, to stop him, and he rode on elation the entire drive to Lauri’s. When he arrived, Lauri swung the door open and squealed, rushing out to help him carry in his things despite his protestations. 

The house smelled of french toast as he entered, and he did his best not to show how hungry he was—he hadn’t properly eaten breakfast, and he’d also missed out on dinner last night. Lauri set the things down in his room and then brought him into the kitchen.

“I made breakfast!” she said. “I don’t know if you've already eaten, but it’s there if you want it, I made far too much of it.”

Will’s hunger and desire to be polite had a battle in his mind, and he eventually gave in and sat down to eat, Lauri joining him. She was very easy to talk to, Will found, and he soon learned that she was a lesbian, that she was a pastry chef, and that she liked to knit. 

He felt boring next to her all the same as he had with Tom, but she didn’t act like it at all—she listened intently to everything he said, asking all the right questions to keep the conversation.

Will wondered how they did it, to so easily know what to say. Socializing had always been one of Will’s weak points, but he found he was warming up to it a bit. After he’d eaten, he went back to his room to properly unpack, and it really only took about thirty minutes for him to get settled in. 

Once he’d finished, Lauri walked him through household chores and had him pick a few for the first week of the chore chart. Will really didn’t mind any type of cleaning more than the other, but he found that Lauri hated to sweep and mop the floor, so he offered to do that, along with cleaning the bathrooms and doing the dishes. 

Lauri had rows and rows of books, which she welcomed him to read, and Will found himself browsing them. It was almost surreal to be here now, truly free from his mother. It still felt too easy, but she really had nothing she could do now, and Will was more than aware of that. 

For the rest of the day, he read one of the books he’d found on Lauri’s shelf, he planned things to do that would help his room feel more like it was, well, _his_ , and he talked some more with Lauri. 

And that was how it went for the next couple of weeks, as well—Lauri even helped him with projects for his room, going so far as to pressure him to paint it and dragging him to the store to pick out a color. He ended up with a deep navy, which Lauri encouraged enthusiastically, and the two of them spent a day painting it.

Lauri was, of course, a good cook, and she coached Will on how to make certain dinners, giving him tips and things. Whenever he made a mistake, Will found himself retreating in shell, years of dealing with his mother bracing him for the inevitable yelling. 

But Lauri never yelled at him—she only gave him a reassuring smile and helped him fix it.

“It’s good!” she’d say, “It means you’re learning! Mistakes help you grow!” 

And soon enough, Will was improving at it, which gave him some hope for the future. The only problem with living with Lauri was how often Tom came over. Not that it was a bad thing—it was just that the same feeling of warmth would return every time he saw Tom. Will once had tried to define it and ended up with the phrase, _butterflies in his stomach,_ and then he had fiercely argued that, _no,_ it was most certainly not butterflies in his stomach. He hadn’t tried to define it again after that.

Tom was much too likable, and Will felt drawn to him. Combined with the feeling in his stomach, it would have him staring at Tom for just a moment too long, and sometimes Tom would notice, looking over to see Will’s gaze on him, and he’d get an unreadable expression on his face and grin at Will, as if he knew something that Will didn’t. Will would go red and look away, wishing desperately that his brain would stop being stupid. 

And then, one night, Lauri and Tom invited him to a party, and Will decided to go with them, despite his brain warning him that it was a bad idea, to risk being alone with Tom. But Will would have to cease this feeling eventually, wouldn’t he? So he went. 

It was similar to the last party, except this time Will knew more people, and he lingered around with Lauri and Tom until once again the party had grown just a bit too loud, and Tom nodded out to the back porch again, seeming to read Will’s mind.

Once he was in the fresh air again, Will gulped in deep breaths and tried to calm himself. Tom sat down next to him, much too close, as their thighs were nearly touching.

“You alright?” he asked, and Will nodded.

“Fine,” he replied, purposely not meeting Tom’s eyes. He was afraid that if he did, he’d do something stupid.

Tom gave a sigh and pulled a cigarette out of his jacket pocket, offering it to Will, who shook his head.

“No, thank you,” he said. “I don’t smoke.” 

Tom grinned. “Me neither,” he said, and Will gave him a puzzled look. Tom shrugged, then nudged his shoulder. 

“I mean, I do sometimes, but only when I’m really, _really_ stressed,” he explained, putting the cigarette back into his pocket. “But it helps calm you down sometimes.”

“Oh,” Will said. Come to think of it, he’d never seen Tom smoking. 

They sat for a moment in silence, Tom subconsciously tapping his foot on the floor, as if he were nervous. 

“You know,” he said suddenly, “I think that girl in the blue shirt likes you.”

Will’s brows furrowed, and he turned to see her through the window, chatting with her friend.

“Why would you think that?” Will asked him.

Tom shrugged. “She was staring at you when we were in there.”

“Oh,” Will said. He sat there for a moment, not knowing what to say.

“Well?” Tom asked. “Are you interested in her?”

Will shook his head, and Tom gave him a strange look.

“What about you?” Will asked, “Any girls interested in you?”

Tom looked pointedly down at the rainbow pin on his jacket and then up at Will with a bemused smile and Will flushed—he’d wondered if Tom was gay, but hadn’t wanted to jump to conclusions.

“No,” Tom said, biting back a laugh. “I think everyone in this town knows I’m gay. Well, except you, apparently.”

“I just didn’t want to assume anything,” Will informed him quickly. 

Tom let himself laugh a bit, tilting his head. “That’s more than most people do,” he said. “It’s alright, I never exactly told you.”

Will took in a deep inhale. “Any boys interested in you, then?” he asked, and an unreadable expression flashed over Tom’s face

“Yes, I think so,” he said, and Will turned to look at him.

“Really?” he asked, “Who?”

Tom gave him a humoring smile. “Well,” he said. “There’s one sitting right next to me.”

It took Will a moment to understand what he meant, and when he did his brain felt as if it had caught on fire. He was unable to form coherent thoughts, but he also wanted to respond as quickly as he could, so what ended up coming out of his mouth was something like, “Wh-I- you?!” and Tom grinned.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t realize that every time you longing stared at me, you meant it platonically.”

Will was feeling quite defensive and appalled at how blunt Tom was being, and he swallowed hard and fixed him with a firm look.

“Listen,” he said, “It’s not like that. I’m not gay.”

“No?” Tom asked, “Is that why you go red every time I touch you?”

“You… you don’t know me at all!” Will exclaimed, but Tom simply rested his hand on Will’s knee and he felt his cheeks go hot, and then even hotter as he registered that, and Tom gave him a pointed look.

Will grasped for words helplessly, locking eyes with Tom, who was looking at him expectantly, as if he were waiting for Will to keep denying it.

“Well?” Tom asked. “Do you want me to let go?”

Will was frozen, his breath caught in his throat as he stared Tom dead in the eyes. Tom was so unbearably smug, a smirk tilting in the corners of his lips as he stared back, taunting Will to respond. The worst part was that he was right—Will did feel, well… _something_ for him. He didn’t want to, but he did. And it was sitting inside of him right now, whispering in his ear, noticing the way Tom’s cheeks and nose were just a bit pink from the cold, the way he smelled of pine and cinnamon, intoxicating, and the warmth of his hand resting on Will’s knee. Will had to drown it out, he had to—he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Tom’s.

Tom instantly melted into it, his hand balling into Will’s sweater, and Will felt his stomach jolt, but he also felt his brain start to overthink. _Don’t think about it,_ he told himself, only focusing on how nice the kiss felt. 

The part of his brain that his mother had drilled into him was crying out in protest, but Will shoved it away and deepened the kiss, clinging onto Tom for dear life as his tongue mingled in with Tom’s, his hand finding its way into those curls. He didn’t want to pull away, but he needed to breathe, and he reluctantly ended the kiss after a moment more. 

Once it had ended, Will was hit instantly with the reality of what he had just done and started to panic.

“I’m not gay,” he said to Tom desperately, who simply grinned at him, rubbing his back.

“The kiss you just gave me says differently,” Tom smirked, and Will flushed again.

He thought about how good it had felt to kiss Tom, how that warm feeling had lingered when he was near, how he’d wanted to brush the curls out of Tom’s eyes. How, in secondary school, he’d felt those same feelings for a boy named Jack, and again in university with a boy named Daniel.

“Maybe a little gay,” Will admitted. Tom reached over and took his hand, and Will tightened the grip and gave it a small squeeze.

“I’m guessing your mum isn’t supportive?” Tom asked, and Will laughed.

“No, God, no,” he said. “If she saw what I just did she’d… she’d probably combust. Die on the spot, then come back as a ghost to yell at me.”

Tom smiled and shrugged. “Well, she’ll never find out unless you tell her,” he said, and Will shook his head.

“I don’t think I ever want to talk to her again,” he admitted. Tom’s grip tightened a bit, into a comforting squeeze. 

“And you don’t have to,” he told Will. “I always feel like, you get to choose your own family.”

Will liked the sound of that. There was a moment of silence as they sat, thinking, before Tom spoke. 

“I knew I was gay for years,” he said, “Ever since I was a kid. But, even though I knew my mum wouldn’t care, I didn’t tell her until I was sixteen. I was still afraid.”

He paused for a moment, shaking hair out of his eyes. “But once I did, I decided never to hide it again,” he said. “I’d rather have people hate me for who I am than have them like me for something I’m not, you know?” 

Will wished he could have that kind of mindset. “Yes,” he responded. 

“Anyway, not many people care about that sort of thing here,” Tom said. “Everyone is friendly. Well, there are a few bad apples—I remember they once came to my house and tried to have a talk with my mum about it, about me being so open.” He laughed a bit at the memory.

“Anyway, she shut them down pretty quick and they never bothered us again,” he finished. Will was smiling now too, keenly aware of the fact they were still holding hands. 

He’d dated several people before, and had the same feelings for those girls, but it was different with Tom. Perhaps because Tom seemed to read him better than he could read himself, and perhaps because Will felt he could truly be himself around him.

Tom noticed Will was looking at him, _of course he did_ , and his smile became smug again. 

“Like what you see?” he asked Will, who rolled his eyes. 

“I think you know that I do,” he confessed, and Tom nudged his shoulder. 

“I don’t know,” Tom said, “You might have to kiss me again to remind me.”

He was a bastard, but certainly a charming one and Will rolled his eyes before he leaned in again for another kiss.

When he pulled away, he smiled and nuzzled into Tom’s cheek.

“Maybe… more than a little gay,” he chuckled, and Tom laughed with him.

“Good,” Tom said. “I’m more than a little gay, too.”

“Good,” Will replied, and this time he didn’t hesitate to lean in and kiss him again.

  
  



End file.
